Modern Legacy: The whoring of Claire Dunphy
by Jack Longstreet
Summary: Claire discovers that the family business is on the verge of bankruptcy threatening her inheritance. Her family's future suddenly depends on her ability to land a huge contract from and multi-national development corporation whose project manager is a precocious little duchess almost half her age.
1. Chapter 1

**MODERN LEGACY**

 **CHAPTER ONE ACE IN THE HOLE**

You're always hearing people say, "Gotta do whatever it takes," but do they even know what they're saying? "Gonna do whatever it takes" to achieve their particular goal. Ya buddy, _**whatever**_ covers a lot of ground; _**whatever**_ covers the _**entire**_ spectrum of human experience and imagination. Are you really ready to suffer every sort of pain, loss and humiliation? Are you actually prepared to lie, cheat, steal, _**kill?**_ It trivializes life to talk that way, to act that way, over something like a football game or an Olympic medal, how can you take people who talk like that seriously. Well I'm not the kind of person to shoot my mouth off like that, but I can honestly say that when the chips are down, I am the kind of person who _**will**_ do whatever, _**what-ever**_ _,_ it takes to ensure the safety and future of my children. Believe me, I walk the talk mister.

Of course, I never thought it would come to that in my life. By the time I turned forty-two my life was good, at least in all the important areas. Or so I thought. Looking back, I think that it all began to change when my brother decided to move his family to Montana to be part of some big important, environmental legal office crap. We were sad to see them go, but I hadn't really thought of him as a support, I like Mitchel, but I never felt that I _**needed**_ him. Then my father's second wife, Gloria, sent her son off to live with his biological father saying that he needed more masculine influence in his life. It seemed strange behavior on her part, but losing my little stepbrother was no big deal. While this was going on, and much more to the point, my husband, Phil, Mr Real Estate, went into a sales slump. In four months he sold only two houses, and both of those were referrals. We didn't panic, he had been through slumps before, but when he went two more months without any sales at all, I began to quietly worry. We needed him to sell a house a month to keep up our comfortable lifestyle, which ran us about fifteen grand a month. Our house, which my genius real estate husband had bought at the top of the market, was just now at the point where if we sold it we would break even, minus of course all the money we had paid into it over the past ten years. We had a hundred grand in savings which isn't much, especially with two, maybe three, kids still to go to university. We had figured that we would catch up at some point, and of course we figured that we would get a share of dad's company when he passed away. That was our ace in the hole.

So it wasn't for the salary, well maybe a little bit for the salary, that I started working for my dad in twenty thirteen, an auspicious year if there ever was one. The idea was for me to get out of the house and get back into the work force, make a bit of money, and maybe, in the back of my mind, kind of keep an eye on our future investment.

I had some trouble with my management style, but it didn't take me long to get a handle on the administrative side of the house. Once I got that down and started concentrating on the financial aspects, I began to get an inkling that everything was not as rosy as we all thought. Shortly after that dad called me into his office after everyone had gone home, closed the door and came right out with it.

"You're a big girl, so I'm not going to sugar coat it," he said. "The company is on its last legs; we'll be bankrupt in a couple of months. I've borrowed to the hilt on the company and on my own credit, sunk every dime of savings I had, cashed my insurance policy – everything to keep it going these past two years."

I was dumbfounded; I shook my head and sat there with my mouth hanging open in disbelief. I wanted to ask a hundred questions, but found I couldn't catch my breath. He raised his hand "Hold all your questions and comments until the end, believe me there's a punch line." I closed my mouth and tried hard to get enough oxygen through my nose. He went on; "it doesn't matter how I got here, a few mistakes, some bad luck, some bad timing, it isn't important. What is important, is that you understand the seriousness of our situation."

 **"** Got it - situation serious," I managed to croak out.

"Good, because I need you to make an all-out effort on this, he said and tossed a thumb drive onto the desk. I picked it up, looked at it, looked back at him hoping that somehow it was all a big joke.

"It's a State funded deal, a huge building and renovation project covering most of Southern California. The legislators put all kinds of political hippie shit on it, and Work Horse Corporation won the bid on the strength of their commitment to using local business and workers, and their record of empowering women, you know, that kind of bullshit. The closets contract would mean four million profit for us over six years. We get this contract the company is saved, I can retire and you can take over a strong, valuable company; we don't get the contract and, no kidding, me and my family wind up living in your garage."

"Dad, this is all so much...

"Never mind all that; I am going to feed you all the technical stuff, the specs, the supply pipeline, manpower and all that. What I need _**you**_ to do, is focus on the pitch. Find out everything you can about these people, about the woman taking the bid. You have to sell _**us**_ to them. They don't want to hear it from an old white guy, they want to do business with a dynamic young woman."

"Does anybody else in the family know about the company?"

"No. What would be the point of getting them all worried? What good would it do?"

"How long do I have?"

"A month."

####

The woman, I should say girl, who was Work Horse's project manager for the Southern California Renewal Project was Charlotte Durance Foxworth, a child prodigy. Her father, The Duke of Foxboro was a diplomat, politician and director of a foreign policy think tank; her mother, was a brain surgeon. She graduated from Oxford at age twenty-one with a law degree and a masters in twentieth century English literature. After school she went directly to work for Work Horse and now at the ripe old age of twenty-three, was in charge of a multi-billion dollar construction project. I really wanted to hate her.

When she arrived at our office wearing clothes that cost more than my car, and jewelry worth more than my house, and turned out to be a gorgeous little pixie with high cheekbones, slightly plump cheeks, a pert nose, mischievous mouth and a dynamite little figure, I wanted to despise her. She wasn't even stuck up or aloof, but maddeningly friendly, even warm **.** I hated it that she intimidated me, and it made me so nervous that I probably wouldn't have finished at all, if she hadn't tried so hard to put me at ease and been so good at it. God, her upper class accent was devastating; damn those Brits.

When I was done, she sat close to me and asked me a few pointed questions that touched directly on our weakest points. I gave her the assurances that dad had given me, and she seemed to accept them. In the end she said, "It is a tenet at Work Horse that we partner with people, not companies. I like you Claire, you are just the kind of person we want to work with on this project."

I actually blushed.

"We will have to run a few checks, but unless something unexpected comes up, I can say that Pritchet Closets will have the contract. Our legal department will be in touch with yours, and you have my number; if there is anything you need please call me. I look forward to having a close relationship with you." She leaned in close to me and put a hand on my knee, God, I thought for a moment that she was going to kiss me. It was so much to take in, and it came so easy that I was in shock. Afterwards it occurred to me that the whole thing did have a kind of a lezzy vibe, maybe because I had never been in such a position of dependence on another woman, and I wasn't used to Brits, so I put it out of my mind.

So we were in. Now the real work began as we scrambled to meet commitments that we never should have made. For the next month we worked our asses off but just could not get ahead of the curve. The estimates that dad had given me were all too optimistic; he was much more out of touch with the current state of the industry than I had ever imagined. We had problems with labor, with supplies, availability of machines and tools, shortage of finances – just about everything. After three weeks he stopped saying positive things all the time and started to look very pale and haggard, he even missed a couple of days work which I found out later was because he had a small heart attack that he didn't tell anyone about **.** I wasn't sleeping, my nerves were on edge, and I was practically pulling my hair out. And what were all the other members of the family doing while I was carrying them all on my back?

Phil still hadn't sold a house and wasn't even trying. He was convinced that he had to make the jump now if he was ever going to realize his dream of being a professional magician. He spent all day and night working on his act when he wasn't sniffing around Gloria. My dad's blushing bride it seemed, was fed up with the lack of attention and vitality in my dad lately and had turned to the most available source of admiration, Phil **.** Of course, while those two were up to their shenanigans nobody was watching our darling little children who were getting in to a very big pile of shit.

Naturally, just at this time the little duchess shows up for a surprise visit. She arrived at the main plant in a big Cadillac with a female driver; "We're trying so hard to buy American on this project," she said. "It's such fun."

I had to take her on a tour of the mostly empty facility which embarrassed the hell out of me. She was nice, sympathetic; touching my arm, smiling with encouragement as I furiously tap danced around her questions. She was too well brought up to call me a liar to my face so she waited until we were in "the loo."

"You must try this lipstick Claire," she said as we stood in front of the mirror. "I think this shade will look great on you." She handed me a stick in a gold, actual gold, tube and I put it on to be polite. It looked good and really felt good too; son- of-a- bitch.

'Oh, it kind of tingles," I said.

"Yes isn't it lovely, it has all kinds of medicinal benefits as well. It's made by one of our sister companies, Show Horse, in Trinidad of all places," she said. I was going to ask her about all these "horse" "sister" companies to take the focus off of my own sorry operation, but she didn't give me a chance. She took a silver case from her purse and handed me a beautifully embossed business card with a hand- written number on the back.

"I want you to have my personal number Claire," she said gently. "If there is anything you need, anything at all, feel free to call me at any time." she said.

"Thank you Charlotte," I said. "I will."

"And Claire, I'm sure that if you know that you are not going to be able to meet your commitments, that you will let me know in sufficient time to do something about it without knocking the whole program off the rails."

I nodded sheepishly keeping my eyes lowered, studying her card.

"Just call and say "help,"" she said touching my arm again. "We want you to succeed."

After she left I sat in my office with my head between my knees feeling sick. I had a long talk with dad that evening and confirmed that there was nothing up his sleeve that was going to save us. Finally at about nine that night I called the number and got her message box. "This is Claire. Help," I said.

She called me back about an hour later. "One of our jets is leaving LA tomorrow morning at eleven, go to the Flying Horse counter at the executive terminal, they'll have a seat for you. A car will meet you at the Sacramento airport and bring you out to our property. Rebecca is here which is fortuitous. Bring your problems and we will knock them on the head over a couple bottles of Chardonnay. You can stay the night and we will get you back to LA the next morning."


	2. Chapter 2 The Rich are Different

**MODERN LEGACY**

 **CHAPTER TWO THE RICH** _ **ARE**_ **DIFFERENT**

"Son of a bitch," I said out loud as we rounded another curve on the winding mountain road outside of Sacramento; each new vista was more striking than the last, and we had been driving up into the mountains for a half an hour. This turn took us onto a private drive through more snow-clad pines to a gate with a guardhouse where an armed female guard chatted with my female chauffer for a moment before waving us through with a smile. We drove for another couple of minutes before turning onto the circular driveway in front of a large, modern…. well mansion, is what I would call it. It blended seamlessly with the surroundings, all clean lines, glass and dark wood paneling, all very elegant and understated. There was some sort of scaffolding around the front entrance "Just some renovations going on I'm afraid," the driver said over the intercom. "I'll take us around the back and show you the way in."

The back was as impressive as the front. There were some other low buildings separated from the main house where we parked, all of the same design and construction. The driver, a fit looking twenty-something in a neat, tight fitting, dark uniform complete with high boots with heels, opened the door for me. She had short blonde hair slanting across the top of her face, blue eyes, and fashion model cheekbones, "This way Mrs. Dunphy," she said smiling. Everyone I met associated with this company exuded happiness, competence and confidence; they were also all women, not necessarily young women, but all attractive and in good shape.

Although there was still a lot of snow on the ground the whole back area was cleared and heated. We walked past a long narrow pool steaming in the cold, to a back door where the driver took her leave and turned me over to the maid, who was almost, but not quite, a classic Burlesque image of one. She was a big-busted blonde with thick lips and she wore a tight short skirt with dark hose and high heels, no apron or little cap, but the effect was certainly there.

"The ladies are at the pool," she said in a husky voice and led me on her tapping heels into the house. I thought we had just passed the pool, but before I could say anything we were looking out from a kind of balcony off the living room down into a huge open space. A floor below me a clear, blue tiled pool, longer than an Olympic, but not as wide, stretched out to meet an expanse of forty foot wide, two story, floor-to-ceiling glass that looked out onto the majestic snowy mountains. The room was spotlessly white and streamlined; long white couches lined both sides of the pool. At the far end where the pool widened out to take up the whole space in front of the window. There were a couple of end tables and a couple of potted plants, but that was all. The maid led me down some carpeted stairs which opened up onto an area off to the side of the pool where there were more white couches and chairs, and a full bar. The "ladies" stood by the bar with drinks in their hands wearing long gauzy wraps over top of their bathing suits, and heels **.**

Patricia came forward with both arms extended and gave me a hug. "So glad you came," she said. "That will be all Kelly," she said over my shoulder.

She took me by the arm and led me a few steps to Rebecca, who smiling brightly, took me by the shoulders and kissed me warmly on both cheeks, "So pleased to meet you Claire," she said in a soft but strong voice.

"And I'm so happy to meet you ma'am," I replied, I guess she was American, but I felt like I had been introduced a queen.

"Please call me Rebecca," she replied.

"Rebecca; I can't tell you how much I appreciate you meeting with me to help me work through these uh….. Issues," I felt like a country bumpkin, like an ugly duckling, practically like a street person, in front of these women. My hands flopped around like I didn't know what they were for, I felt like my knees were knocking together. I was about to launch into my appeal when Rebecca took me lightly by the shoulder, and leaning in a little to my face said, "I bet you would like a drink after your long trip. Patricia, fix Claire up **."**

"Already on it," Patricia called back gleefully from behind the bar.

"We're having gin and Collins," Rebecca said. "Just the thing for this time of day."

"You won't get an argument from me," I said a bit too heartily. Rebecca pretended not to notice my awkwardness and led me to the bar where a very tall glass was placed in my hand. "To Claire," Patricia proclaimed. "To Claire," Rebecca replied while I held my glass up to be clinked.

 **"** Race you to the bottom," Patricia challenged, looking at me with mischievous eyes as she tipped up her drink.

"You little imp," Rebecca replied, but tipped up hers as well also looking at me. I realized that they were both already a little tipsy.

"Okay, if that's the way you want to play it, just so happens I can hold my drink," I thought. Patricia won the race to the bottom, but I wasn't far behind. Fresh drinks immediately appeared, but these were sipped by these flushed, beautiful women who were so different in many ways and yet shared so much in common. Patricia was petite, although she was about an inch taller than Rebecca. She had pale white skin, light brown, slightly tilted eyes, cute, ever so slightly plump cheeks and lips; her light brown hair fell to her shoulders. Rebecca was much darker, not so much as to say that she was brown, just a white woman exquisitely tanned. Her nose was a bit large and her lower lip fatter than her upper, but this imbalance was surprisingly seductive, her striking dark eyes were made up, a little too much I thought, quite darkly. Although they must have been over thirty years apart in age, they both came from money and nobility, and had attended prestigious institutions of higher learning. They shared perfect posture; confident, yet still feminine. Their skin was flawless, and there was a sleek effortless air about everything they did. The only stark difference between them was that while Patricia had almost a boy's body, Rebecca was really quite voluptuous. Her large breasts, curvy hip and butt would put even Gloria to shame. I was awed by their intelligence, impressed by their money and taste, and more than a little turned on to them sexually.

I took a deep breath and dove into the momentary silence to launch my pitch once again, but Rebecca placed a hand on my arm; "Relax Claire, we're not going anywhere. Come, we were just about to have a swim when you arrived. It'll be just the thing to refresh you and tone you up."

I couldn't refuse; after all, I was a guest and a supplicant, and they were being gracious and welcoming, but I didn't have a bathing suit or anything and I found myself stammering again.

"Just go into the cabana on the right there dear, I'm sure you'll find everything you need, then come and join us; here, don't forget your drink."

The cabana was the size of my master bedroom at home, with an en-suite just as big. I plopped down the laptop I had been lugging around, set my drink down on the dressing table and went to look through the closets. There were about a dozen wraps hanging up, but no bathing suits; I checked the dresser and found about twenty of them, all very high quality, all looking brand new. The problem was that I couldn't find one to fit me; they were either for women with big cans like Rebecca, or little pixie bodies like Patricia. Some of them were so incredibly skimpy it was impossible to tell _**what**_ kind of body they would fit, they were little more than strings that ran up your crack. I giggled a little as I held one up to my naked body; God who have the nerve to wear such a thing? It made me wonder what kind of swimming parties they had around here. I also noticed that there were no men's bathing suits; well maybe it was a women's cabana. I finally found a brown one-piece that was a little skimpier than I would normally wear, but it was not cut as low in the bust, or as high in the hip as any of the others. I had kept them too long as it was, so I quickly wiggled into it, left my empty glass on the dressing table, and went out wearing a pair of two inch heels that seemed to fit me.

They were both in the pool doing laps, both swimming well of course, so I lowered myself in and started doing the same. This went on longer than I thought it would, but that was okay with me; I'm very fit and that was one area where I didn't think they had anything on me at least, I could keep it up for a long time. But I didn't have too, after what I figured was my twentieth lap I turned to find them lounging in the shallows waiting for me. "There, feels better doesn't it?" Rebecca said smiling as I swam up to them.

'Yes very nice," I replied which was true, it did feel good, and I did feel better, more relaxed, more alert.

"Good, we can begin discussing these problems of yours as we head to the sauna," she replied.

"Of course," I said and had to catch myself because I almost slipped when I saw Patricia, who was getting out first, rise out of the water. Her white suit, which had slid right into the crack of her tight little ass, was now completely see through **.** Rebecca's was the same, and with her there was a lot more to see, including large dark nipples in the middle of big swaying breasts. I had just managed to cover my surprise at seeing her when I realized that my suit must be the same. Blushing, I could see the red right down to my feet, I tried to match their non-chalant walk as we went back to the bar area and got towels for our heads. Heads wrapped, bodies still wet, slinky and mostly naked, we started for the sauna.

"Now what would you say is the issue that worries you the most Claire, the one thing, not necessarily the most urgent thing, that you feel will be hardest to resolve?" Rebecca asked, holding me gently by the arm, one slick boob pressing against me as we walked. I tried to concentrate and not stare at Patricia's naughty little bum twitching in front of us as she led the way. I hadn't gotten out a proper answer or even a coherent sentence by the time we reached the door of the sauna. The maid was there, and my mind was further muddled when Patricia peeled off her suit and handed it to her. I managed to get my tongue back in to my mouth before I snapped it shut, and in order not to feel even _**more**_ embarrassed I quickly slid out of mine. In that instant I had noticed, without staring of course, that Rebecca had a pretty full bush of dark hair, while Patricia was shaved bare.

It's not that I've never been naked around other naked women before; after all I go to the gym regularly, and it was not like I had anything to be ashamed of. Like I said, I'm in very good shape, better than either of them, although I certainly could have used a little more work in the grooming department at this moment. In my defense I had been very busy lately and I didn't expect this to be happening. That's what it was; this was so unexpected and off the wall.I had no idea how rich people behaved in these situations, or how rich people behaved at all for that matter; I mean the really rich, the mega rich like these two. All I could do was follow their lead and try and act as if it was all natural to me, so that they wouldn't cast me outside with the rest of the peasants where I belonged. It was very subtle, but I could swear there was just the slightest smirk on the face of the maid as I handed her my bathing suit.

The sauna was a fairly large rectangular room with two levels of benches that could have seated at least seven or eight. Rebecca climbed up to the top bench at the end and fit herself into the corner with her legs stretched out, while Patricia poured water on the coals and got the place really steaming. There were towels on the benches and I sat in the corner opposite Rebecca, matching her pose, legs crossed at the ankle. The bench was long enough that our feet didn't quite touch. Patricia sat on the bench just below Rebecca positioned so that her head was at the older woman's shoulder. Rebecca casually draped an arm over her while Patricia lightly stroked her thigh. They both smiled at me expectantly, "Well?" Rebecca said.

I had no idea what she meant. Was she looking for a comment on their apparently lesbian May - December relationship? Was that even what it was? Maybe this was the way all these high class women treated each other, I mean after all, they all went to special preppy boarding schools where they all slept with each other didn't they? Were they asking me if I wanted to join in?

Still seeming not to notice my lack of social graces Rebecca prompted gently, "Your greatest concern?"

"Oh yes, yes of course," I stammered, giving my head a shake. I took a deep breath, "Get it together Claire," I said to myself, and I got my focus and launched into a detailed description of the legal problems we were facing, from memory. They listened attentively, still idly stoking each other's shiny skin. They waited until I was completely finished and then asked a few careful questions, which I was able to answer to their satisfaction. They talked a bit to each other, but so many of the legal terms were beyond me that they could have been speaking Latin for all I know, well I guess they were mostly speaking Latin, then Rebecca closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall. Patricia continued to smile at me; was she coming on to me? Had Rebecca fallen asleep? "Were they fucking with me?"

Rebecca spoke to Patricia again without opening her eyes, and the younger woman got up and came and sat close beside me, flank pressed against sweaty flank. Rebecca opened her eyes, sat up and came towards me forcing me to make room so that she was pressed against my other side. "There's nothing here that we can't handle," she said.

I was trying not to scrunch up, trying not to seem defensive; still not sure what was going on. "But the legal matters, some of those things are before the courts, some have been tied up there for years," I said.

Rebecca walked her fingers along my shoulder to the back of my neck. "Oh I think I can manage it, if I am properly motivated," She said. "I have quite a bit of influence with the courts in LA."

Patricia made a little laugh, "That's an understatement; Rebecca pretty much owns the courts down there."

"Really," I managed to gasp, squirming a little when Patricia gently laid her hand on my thigh. Okay, so it _**was**_ going to be like that, at least it wasn't all in my imagination.

"Honestly Claire there really isn't anything we can't manage for our friends," Rebecca said.

"Do you want to be our friend Claire?" Patricia asked slowly moving her fingers towards my pussy.

"No….. Yes…. I don't know. No, I've got to go," I said and bolted.

I ran naked to the cabana and threw on my clothes. I didn't know what the hell I was doing; I had panicked, and I'm not even sure why. I knew that I had probably just thrown away my future and that of my dad and our whole family, but all I wanted was to get out of there without facing them now that I had made a fool of myself by showing what a hopeless, timid, bourgeois I was. Clearly I was out of my element and completely out of my league.

Patricia, still naked, with a towel wrapped around her head was leaning against the wall by the stairway, the maid stood beside her looking at me vacantly, unfazed as if this sort of shit happened around here every day. "I'm so sorry Patricia," I said. I knew I must have looked ridiculous, having thrown on my clothes straight out of the sauna with my hair a mess. "I'm just not…, I'm a married woman I ..."

"You really don't get the full benefit of the sauna unless you take a dip in the cold pool afterwards," she replied.

"We're not up to it, I'm not up to it," I pressed on. "I know there will be fines and such ..."

 **"** Nonsense. Really Claire, there'll be none of that. No hard feelings."

"But, the commitments we made?'

"Oh, we won't be able to pay you, and we _**will**_ have to contract with someone else, but it's nothing we can't take in stride. The car will take you back down. The jet is still here, and it will run you back to LA straight away."

"That's very kind of you, I…"

She shrugged; "Sincerely, no hard feelings. It's too bad that you weren't up to it this time, but if you ever have any new proposals, or if you ever find yourself in any trouble, you have my number, fell free to use it. Kelly will see you out, safe journey Claire'" She shook my hand and turned and walked away, completely naked and totally at ease, moving as sleekly as a model going down the runway while I bumbled after the maid.


	3. ANNNYYYYTHINNNGGGG

**MODERN LEGACY**

 **CHAPTER THREE ANNNNYYYYYYYTHIIIIING**

It was only three o'clock in the afternoon and I was already in a taxi heading home, it was hard to grasp how much had happened so fast. Did I blow it? I had been going over it again and again in my head. What was the problem, what was the big deal? It wasn't as if I'd never eaten any pussy before, I'd been to university after all, I mean, I even liked it, and they were very attractive, sexy women. In different circumstances I would have loved to have a little romp with them. Was it because I felt like I was being forced? Come on, it wasn't like they were ordering me to eat them out, they had been very polite about it and there was no question that it was me and dad that had screwed up and put in in a corner. When I had time to think about it I realized just how much help they had been willing to give, I wasn't going to be a cheap fuck that was for sure, but I was still doing it for money, I _**had**_ to lick their cunts to get what I wanted, and that _**reduced**_ **me** to being a whore, an expensive one, but still a whore, and I just couldn't swallow that.

How could I explain that to dad, he'd never believe me, and if he did, then he would have told me that I should have taken one for the team, for the family for Christ's sake? Would he have sucked a couple of cocks to save us, I wondered, maybe, I wasn't sure. Well anyways, I was standing tall, keeping my pride no matter what the cost. I was a strong woman and I would get this scurvy lot - dad, Gloria, Phil off their asses and we would get our shit together and somehow stay off the street. I wasn't at the stage where I had to whore myself out, not yet, I hadn't reached the "Do whatever it takes" stage just yet. With guts and hard work we still had options. Pritchett's are fighters, and I would roll with the punches, damn it.

Then I got the first real body blow. Phil called; dad had a serious stroke while I was away. I rushed to the hospital and found him asleep, sedated, and apparently paralyzed from the neck down. Phil and Gloria were standing together by the bed; "So did you save the contract?" Gloria demanded almost immediately, obviously dad had told her everything.

"No," I replied, defiantly, pissed off that they would ask that while dad was laying there, when I had just come through the door.

"Ahh I knew it, I knew it, and you are so useless!" she exclaimed throwing up her hands. "What are we going to do for the muny now, with no contract, we have no the health insurance; do you know how much muny it is just to have him lay here one day?"

"What do you know about it? God damn it, dad made impossible commitments, and I have been working my ass off," I shot back. I never liked her, never, I pretended for family peace, but I never liked her at all.

'Sure blame the man who can _**no**_ **te** speak for himself,' she shouted back, practically spitting in my eye.

I took a swing at her, but Phil stepped in between us; "Hey, hey, this is no time for my girls to be fighting," he said, and then we both lit into him. A couple of orderlies had to pull us apart.

"And where are the kids, Phil?" I demanded when they finally let me go.

Before I could get an answer from him a cop came through the door and gave me the second body blow. "Mrs. Dunphy?" the police officer said, "You have to come with us, you're under arrest."

"Are you _**kidding**_ me, it was only a spat," I cried as they put the cuffs on me. They were arresting Gloria and Phil too. "What the hell is going on?"

It turned out, as I discovered some hours later, that while I was working my ass off to save the family business, and Phil was pursuing his magic career, our children, the little dickens, had been running a suburban, prostitution ring for pedophiles **.** That was very, very, bad especially since Haley and Luke themselves had been turning tricks, and even Alex had been down on her knees ready to blow some old John when the cops burst in on them. But what was much worse, was that they had been using a phone of mine that I thought I had lost, to conduct their sordid business.The police are not particularly sympathetic towards a woman who pimps out her children and their nice suburban friends. When I got my phone call I was lucky enough to get Patricia on the first ring. "I really, really, really want to be your friend," I said. Then I lowered my voice, "And I'll do anything to prove it, _**annnyyyything.**_ "

####

I spent a long time in the big beautiful shower of the room in the Nighthorse Corporation's mansion in Malibu that they had put me up in, trying to scrub away the horror of the last couple of days. Patricia responded immediately to my pleas and they had some attorneys down at the courthouse right away, but they had a hell of a lot to deal with. I and my lovely family were charged with a wide range of very serious crimes. Rebecca pulled a lot of strings, and they managed to get me and the kids out on bail after only two nights, two of the most incredibly horrible nights of my life. We had no money at all; we hadn't had much of a reserve to begin with, and the rest was tied up as part of the investigation, so we couldn't possibly have made the combined bail of One hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Rebecca posted bail for Luke, the girls and me, but not for Phil and Gloria.

"They are rolling on you Claire," Patricia told me in our jailhouse interview, "They are backing the story that you were behind it, and covering themselves from having any responsibility." That was the first real inkling I had of what had been going on between Phil and Gloria these past few months.

The investigators came at me really hard, really vicious, convinced that I was the worst kind of trash on earth, and if it hadn't been for the Work Horse lawyers in there with me, they would have eaten me alive. Everybody seemed really pissed when I walked out of there on bail, but Patricia met me in front of the jailhouse in a limo and spoke soothingly to me on the way to the Malibu "property".

I was forbidden contact with any of my family, but she assured me that the girls had been taken out of the Juvie hellhole they were in and placed with good guardians that would treat them right and d keep them from getting into any more trouble. So it was with a lot of gratitude, relief, and even a little bit of hope, that I returned to the bedroom to get dressed for my meeting with Rebecca. It took me a few minutes of rooting around the luxurious, bedroom before I realized that my clothes were gone. It occurred to me that maybe they wanted me to go to the meeting naked, and I was prepared to deal with that, but I thought that I would play it coy for as long as possible, **so I stuck my head out the door and called out, "Helloooo?"**

The big blonde maid from Sacramento, appeared immediately with her frighteningly big mouthed smile, "Yes ma'am?" she asked. At least the help were treating me politely, that was reassuring, I thought, and then said, "I'm sorry you are?"

"Kelly ma'am, and the other maid you will see is Karina," she replied.

"Ah yes, Kelly. Well Kelly, my clothes seem to be missing," I said clutching a towel around my chest.

"Yes ma'am, the clothes you had with you in that filthy prison, Miss Halliday instructed me to burn them."

"Oh, well …"

She interrupted me by handing me a dress on a hanger and a package of pantyhose, "There are appropriate shoes in the closet; earrings and perfume are on the dressing table. When you're dressed just come out and I'll show you to Miss Halliday's office."

"Thank you Kelly,' I replied taking the clothes and retreating back into the bedroom.

I slipped on the nude, sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose, which were exactly my size, and then squeezed into the very tight, simple red dress that just barely covered my ass while standing, and was cut almost down to my navel in the front. No bra, no panties; I put on the diamond studs and the four inch black stilettos, dabbed a bit of perfume, fluffed my hair and checked myself out in the mirror.Pretty bruised under the eyes from crying and lack of sleep, a bit of a shiner on my right cheek from where one of the prison dykes hit me, and a bit weary around the mouth, but not bad considering that I just got out of jail a few hours ago. I smoothed the little dress down as far as it would go over my ass and looked at it in the full length mirror beside the dressing table; not bad at all if you like the type; fit, leggy blonde with a small, tight, but round ass, not much upstairs only 34B, hell even Alex had bigger cans than me, but you work with what you've got. If this was all I had to bargain with I would have to make it sizzle.

Kelly was waiting out in the hallway and for the first time I realized that she was an angel; she handed me a heavy tumbler with a good strong vodka tonic, "I thought you could use this,' she said, "down it, you can't walk into her office holding a drink."


	4. The Rich are very different

**MODERN LEGACY**

 **CHAPTER FOUR THE RICH ARE** _ **VERY**_ **DIFFERENT**

The Malibu office was a little more Spartan and modern than I prefer, but it was very spacious and was well lit by the floor to ceiling windows than ran along the whole length of one wall looking out on spacious gardens that were fully screened by a high wall some hundred yards or so in the distance. The desk was only about four feet wide, but it must have been some thirty feet long running almost wall to wall, with just enough space to walk around at one end; there was a single plush office chair behind the desk, and nothing in front except for a couple of chairs and a coffee table at the far wall.

On my command Claire came in, a little nervous and a little wobbly on her four-inch heels. She was dressed as I had instructed; the tight little red number rode high on her well-shaped thighs as she walked, threatening to expose her pantyhose covered pussy with every step. She came and stood contritely in front of the desk, hands down at her lap, head slightly lowered, looking like someone steeling herself to receive a deserved punishment. I had her by her little blonde short and curlies; her demon children had put her in a terrible jam, which had stunned her, and of course jail had terrified her. I had already decided what I was going to do with her, and I knew that we could get them all off, but the fun now was to make her suffer, and to keep her in suspense and dependence for as long as possible. She was completely at my mercy, and I could have done anything to her, but it was her high spirit that I liked and I didn't want that broken, just submissive to my will.

She looked me in the eye, her pride still burning bright in her battered blue eyes, "I want to say Rebecca, how very grateful I am to you for getting us all out of jail; that was the most horrendous experience of my life, and I can only imagine how terrible it must have been for the children. We can't thank you enough, and I sincerely hope that you will agree to take our case; I'm sure that someone of your renowned skill can get us off." She smiled an ingratiating smile titling her pretty head a little to one side.

I didn't respond in kind; I finished looking through the papers on my desk and then sat back for a moment regarding her with narrow-eyed concern. I leaned forward and said, "I'm not here to judge, but Jesus Claire, how could you not know what these kids were up to?"

She bit her lip and was about to say something, but I cut her off and pressed on, "There is no question of guilt, these kids walked right into a set up, and they had done nothing to cover any of their tracks. Good God, child prostitutes in the LA suburbs! It's a sensation; this sort of thing is red meat to any DA. There is no down side for them in coming after you with everything they've got, and as publicly as possible; they are going to eat you alive and make you notorious throughout the whole country."

She brushed her blonde hair back over her ears with her eyes closed as if she could shut out the truth, "But _**I'm**_ not guilty Rebecca! I didn't have anything to do with it, and they're only kids. How bad can it be?"

I looked at her as if I couldn't believe she could be so obtuse; I took off my glasses and leaned forward for emphasis, and also to show off my cleavage, my nipples were rock hard at this point and my pussy was getting moist; "I guess I'm not making myself clear here. The DA has no motivation at all to go easy. He will pursue you all, and badger you until he gets a false confessions from one of the girls, or from Phil and Gloria, and in the end they will nail you for something, even if it is only obstruction of justice. Even if they know they don't have a case against you, they will draw it out as long as possible for the publicity. Luke might get off without too much damage, maybe a year or two in juvie, but he will surely make you and the girls the villains of a morality play, that he is going to write. The girls will be charged as adults, even Alex; at best they're looking at twenty years in federal prison, twenty –five for you; very hard time too."

She did some sexual fretting; pulling at the short hem of her skirt, fooling with the shoulders of her dress and then looked at me with a pleading, enticing face, "But you can do something right? Find a loophole, or fix a jury or something," she was trying to be light and cajoling, but when I remained stern I could see the confidence draining out of her face. Her upper lip trembled a little as she went on, "You said you would do anything for a friend. I desperately want to be your friend Rebecca, your obedient little friend; can't you help me?"

"This isn't some petty matter like fraud or even murder Claire," I snapped back. "Are you not listening to me? This case is a DA's wet dream; they're going to throw everything they have at it, and it is going to take a lot of man-hours to fight it," I replied with narrowed eyes and a tight mouth, still leaning forward. Her head drooped and her eyes lowered, but all of the muscles in her face were tight; I noticed with appreciation, that even the muscles of her legs were tight. She hadn't given up. She toyed with seeming innocence, at the hem of her dress revealing her pussy.

"God, I know, I know," she said angrily, "Those little shits, God damn them for putting us in this position. They should be punished, hell they should be punished hard, but if they go to jail their lives are finished." She looked up at me earnestly, seriously, showing me that she understood how this was going to work if it was going to work at all. "It would be so much better if _**you**_ could punish them and show them how to get their lives back on track."

I lowered my eyes a little and sat back in my chair, but gave no other indication that I was softening. She went on, doubt creeping into her voice, "All I can say is that you hold our lives in your hands, and I will do whatever it takes to make it up to you, and the girls too, the guilty little shits," she looked at me directly licking her lips blatantly, "We will do _**anyyyything**_ , and I mean _**anyyyything**_ you want us to do if only you will help us."

"Oh you're so cute," I replied tilting my head and making a sympathetic face, "You really don't know how much this is going to cost do you? How much do you think my office gets per hour for a case like this?"

Her eyes were wide with alarm and she was back to toying with her hair, "Ah I don't …five hundred an hour?"

"Eighteen hundred. You could do the math, but ball park, it'll cost my firm over two million to defend this case; and that's not counting the considerable amount of favors we'll have to call in, and the damage to our reputation for defending pedophiles."

"Two million!" her jaw actually dropped and tears sprang to her eyes.

"Do you have a two million dollar ass Claire?" I asked.

Trying to get a grip on herself she wiped her eyes and looked down and away from me, "Well, yes, that is considerably more than I imagined," she took a deep breath, "Two million bucks, really, wow, shit." I let her stew, just sitting back and looking at her skeptically. She took another deep breath and then looked me straight in the eye with determination, "So what is going to happen to us? Are you at least going to give us a chance to try and fuck like two million dollar whores?" she asked.

I leaned back, my chair turned to the side so that I could rest one arm on the desk while I looked at her as I would any person making a business pitch that I was mildly interested in. I was very relaxed, "The bottom line is that you are asking us to make a substantial investment in you Dunphy's," I said reasonably. "Mr Smith will make the final decision of course; if you fail to impress him then you are on your own; please him and the sky is the limit for you and your daughters. I have to decide if you merit an audition with him. As you can imagine, Mr Smith is a very busy man with a flood of offers, and I don't lightly waste his time."

Much to my delight that got the sparks flying; pride and fierce determination transformed her stance. She leaned forward pointing to her face; "We won't waste your time Rebecca, I promise you that. Look at this face; this face can be anybody you want it to be; this mouth can suck the chrome off a bumper. Obviously my daughters are natural whores and will do what they have to do when they understand what's at stake," She placed both hands on the desk and leaned further towards me, her mouth trembling with challenge, eyes full of fire, "I am a determined woman, and I will do whatever it takes to satisfy that man, you have my word on that."

I continued to look skeptical, rested my head farther back and swung my chair more to the open side of the long desk, "Alright, you say you're ready to commit; let's see you put your mouth where the money is, so to speak. You can start by licking my shoes, pay particular attention to the heels, I want to see that tongue of yours in action," I said. She hesitated a second looking a little shocked, then made a little nod with her head lowered, and started to come around the end of the desk. Raising my voice a little and making it stern I added "and from now on you will address me as madam, you little whore."

####

Okay, I thought, that was a little abrupt; no easing into things. I guess we're going straight from Claire Dunphy, business woman and soccer mom, to "shoe-licking little whore". Okay, I said I would do anything, and now's the time to get down on my knees, shove my pride up my ass, and start being the best damn shoe-licking whore she's ever seen, "Yes madam," I said as I walked around the long desk. She turned her chair all the way around to face me, and sat back with her legs crossed, one leg dangling over the other. She wore a silky, gray-green wrap dress that rode just above her knees while sitting; her legs were encased in black nylon.

I smiled at her and wriggled theatrically, pulling my tight dress up over my hips so that I could properly kneel down in front of her. She split her dress open and spread her legs wide revealing that she wore sheer to the waist pantyhose her trimmed, but full, black bush. "Start with the shoes," she said.

I had never done this before in my life, so I just instinctively went to my left and had to get right down on my stomach to get my tongue at her shoes. They were very un-business like, severe, five-inch heels with about an inch-and-a-half platform at the toes which were open, as was the wickedly curved arch; they were fastened by a thin strap that wound twice around her surprisingly thin ankles and tied up in a limp bow. Her arch looked quite enticing actually, and I started there, sticking my tongue out to make long licks of the nylon of her foot.

"The shoe, get your tongue under the sole of the arch," she commanded and I immediately shifted my tongue to start licking the underside of the shoe which was actually very clean and smelled like expensive leather. She brought her left foot over and dug her heel into my exposed ass, "what do you say when you're given a command?" she asked.

 **"** Yes madam?" I replied. Her heel was still digging into my ass threatening to rip the pantyhose.

"Say it," she said, pressing down until it pinched.

"Yes madam," I said loudly and she eased up. "Now do the heel, get your tongue way out, come on you little slut, you said you were good."

I flicked my tongue up and down the heel, and then tried my best to wrap it around the spike. I felt the pressure of her other foot again, "Look at me, look up! A first class whore always maintains eye contact unless told otherwise," she advised.

I twisted my head so that I could look up at her as I continued to lick, "yes mammmmdamml," I mumbled with the leather in my mouth.

 **"** Now do the toes," she said, and I moved around to start licking and sucking her toes while trying to keep my eyes on her. She prodded me again, "and stick your ass up, higher, good, a first class whore always sticks out her ass whenever possible."

"Yes madam," I said positioning myself more squarely in front of her and raising my ass from my hips; there was so much to think about that I hardly had time to feel humiliated. She didn't let it go on too long anyway before she ordered me to stand up.

I gratefully tottered to my feet, running my tongue around the inside my mouth to try and deal with the dry leather taste, while still maintaining eye contact. My dress was bunched up around my waist, and I was going to straighten it, but thought better of it, and just stood there with my hands at my sides. She stood up, with each of us in our heels we stood directly nose to nose. She grabbed me by the back of the neck and firmly, but not roughly, pulled my mouth to hers and started tonguing me.

This wasn't my first lesbian encounter; I had fooled around a bit in high school of course, and at university I had sex with two different girls at different times, you could even say that I was in a lesbian relationship at one point for about four months. The sex was pretty good; I was the dyke of course, but I've got nothing against pussy or boobs or hairless asses, nothing at all, it just isn't really my thing **. I** _ **do**_ like a good hard cock though, and they just don't make a dildo that really comes close to the real thing. I like to get fucked by a man, if it's a woman, I like to do the fucking. At least half the time with Phil, the bastard, it was me that was doing the fucking. Rebecca was a clean, perfumed, attractive and sexy woman, so this was no hardship for me. Being submissive, being the femme, now that was hard, and I didn't know really how much I was supposed to play that up, so after a bit I gave Rebecca as good as I got, kissing her hard, putting my hands at the sides of her neck and pushing her dress off of her shoulders as she reached around and grabbed my ass. She seemed all right with that; we were really going at it for a while, and I began to get pretty turned on. Maybe this wouldn't be too bad, especially if I wasn't going to be expected to be meek all the time. I couldn't imagine Patricia being the dyke, and I was already hoping that I was going to get a crack at that sweet, tight assed, little upper-class slut.

Just when I was starting to chew on Rebecca's luscious lower lip she broke it off leaning back and giving me an appreciative look, "Turn around and take off your pantyhose," she said sitting back down in the chair.

I turned around, bent down and started to take them off when I felt the toe of her shoe at the bottom of my butt.

"Not like that, damn it. Bend at the waist, stick your ass out and _**slowly**_ pull the pantyhose down over your ass. You are a performer now Claire, you have to stimulate all the boss's senses; sight, sound, smell and touch, but most especially sight," she said. I tried to do as she said, trying to mimic all of the strippers I had seen in the movies, "Eye contact!" she snapped.

"Yes madam," I replied twisting my head around and angling myself a bit so that I could look at her. I kept my legs straight for as long as I could, and then had to bend a little and step out of them.

"Turn around and hand them to me," she said.

"Now snug up against the desk, lean on it with your elbows, that's it," she gave me a hard, loud smack on my behind, "What did I say about your ass?"

""Stick it out madam," I replied trying my best to do that. She ground her hips into me and pushed me hard against the wood of the desk which hit me about mid-thigh, then she grabbed my arms and hauled them up behind me making me collapse onto the desk and put all my weight on my less than substantial tits, crushing my cheek into the wood.

I could feel her binding my wrists together with my pantyhose. I could feel her behind me, grinding her hands over my ass cheeks and upper thighs with both hands, giving me a hard slap from time to time. I didn't like this nearly as much, and I squirmed a little trying to get comfortable.

"Oh you don't like that?" she hit me harder and began to forcefully rub the bottom of my cheeks, brushing the sides of my pussy lips with her thumbs. I was wondering how far this was going to go when she gave me another hard slap, "Say "mmmmmum" when someone does something like that to you," she said.

"Yes madam, mmmmmum," I replied a little sarcastically. She laughed at that and then gave me a very hard slap.

"Oh Claire, Claire, Claire!" she said still laughing but punctuating each "Claire" with a harder slap, "You're going to be so much fun. Now do it again properly," she snapped and pushed a thumb roughly inside my embarrassingly wet pussy.

I jumped a little and said, "Oh!" and then recovered myself and said "mmmmmum" in a suitably sexy way.

"Better," she said and then moved to the side so that she could more easily stroke my ass, "You have a very nice ass Claire, and I can see it's the product of a lot of hours of work in the gym; that's good, the boss likes a hard working girl."

"Yes madam, thank you madam," I replied feeling that was appropriate response to a woman who was complimenting me while she had her thumb up my snatch. With my head mashed against the desk I found myself looking out the big windows at the lovely garden outside, and thinking how strange it was that this didn't seem all that strange. Had I been heading for to this absurd position all of my life?

"You have potential Claire," Rebecca declaimed still stroking my ass, and rubbing her fingers along the very edge of my indecently swollen pussy lips; "a pretty face, nice hair, a decent, if somewhat lean body, intelligence, wit, spirit; you have everything it takes to make it to the top, we just have to see if you have the _**will**_. We have to see if you have the strength to submit," she concluded with one hard slap.

She sat down again, "Good, you can go now, take a nap, get something to eat, and then Patricia will look in on you and see to your training."

"Yes madam, thank you madam," I replied. Training? What the hell did she mean by that? I wondered as I disentangled myself from my pantyhose, and wriggled my dress back down over my hips. She had already turned her attention to some papers on her desk, so I turned around and attempted to wobble out of her office with as much dignity as my red bottom, and wet pussy would allow.


	5. One's proper place

**MODERN LEGACY**

 **CHAPTER FIVE ONES PROPER PLACE**

Kelly had done her usual efficient job of getting the "guest" ready for me by the time I had finished with the last of the tedious Renewal Project business for the day. Claire was rested, scrubbedclean, with light whorish make-up applied, her hair freshly fluffed, and was wearing nothing but four inch stilettos. She had survived her initial meeting with Rebecca well enough for me to proceed with her training, and she seemed to have recovered remarkably well from her stay in prison, physically at least. In fact she must have been feeling downright cocky, because she stood with a bit of a smug smile when I entered and started towards me as if she would give me a hug.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, bitch," I snarled and slashed at her nipples with my riding crop.

"Owwww, what….hey!" she objected and stumbled back, bringing her arms up to cover her tits.

I shifted my aim deftly and cut at her upper thighs; "stand still, damn you," I shouted and kept advancing on her.

"Stop that, Owwww, shit!" she cried out stumbling back until she ran up against Kelly who pinned her arms behind her back and forced her to her knees. Claire was fit and wiry, but she was no match for Kelly who was half a foot taller, at least sixty pounds heavier, and quite experienced at this sort of thing. She squirmed, and thrashed, and complained, but there was nothing she could do.

I slapped her right across the lips with the leather flap at the tip of the crop, a precise blow, not enough to leave any sort of mark, but certainly enough to sting and focus her attention. "Shut it Claire!" I commanded and brought the tip of the crop up against her lips and held it there, ready to strike again in a flash. She got the message and stopped complaining, clamping her mouth shut with an effort and looked up at me with tear filled, angry eyes.

"I thought you wanted to be our friend Claire," I said. "Uh. Uh," I added when she looked ready to speak. "If you don't want to be here, I can have you delivered back to prison within the hour, that would save us a lot of money and trouble, and I'm sure that all of your cell mates will be glad to have you back.

"Ummmm?" I flicked the crop up to snap her earlobe and watched her flinch and then bite down on her lip, forcing herself to be quiet. "The response you are looking for is "I beg your pardon madam, I am nothing but a lowly, cunt-licking, little whore who forgot her proper place," I said. I let the crop drop from her mouth to flick at her erect nipples while I gave her a second to adjust her attitude.

"I beg your pardon, madam, I am nothing but a lowly, cunt-licking, little whore who forgot her place," she replied, the anger easing out of her voice with every word to be replaced by more or less genuine contrition.

I nodded to Kelly who let her go; "stand up!" I commanded stepping back a little.

She couldn't resist giving Kelly a little shake when the bigger woman let her go, but she stood up quite meekly in front of me, looking more than a little afraid. It had been a shock, no doubt, to find out that I was going to be having my way with her and not the other way around. She didn't seem to know where to look, or what to do with her hands after she had cuffed away her angry tears. Without looking me directly in the eyes she said, very contritely, "I'm sorry, really sorry…madam, I really do want to be your friend, I want to do whatever I have to do. I know I owe you…..I….just don't know what I'm supposed to do. This is all new to me, please forgive me."

I remained stern, pointedly ignoring her apology; I stuck the crop under her chin to direct her misty, blue eyes to mine. "Well, we will set you straight on a few things right now then," I said.

"Thank you," she replied.

"Posture!" I snapped. "Always stand up straight, tits thrust out, and arms down and clasped behind your back." Actually her posture wasn't bad, for an American; she had decent bearing, part of her pride, and her early training as an ice dancer. She quickly adopted the stance as I explained it to her. "Head lowered at a natural angle unless you are spoken to, in which case you will look the speaker in the eyes with a demure, submissive, expression. Legs slightly parted, here good." I used the crop to push her thighs to the proper stance; the red marks where I had struck her were already fading. The greatest part of skill with a crop, or a switch, or even the bare hand is to not hit too hard. In Mr Smith's household no one is ever struck hard enough to leave a mark that would last more than a day at the most.

"There are other poses, but we will get to them; of course you will never sit unless told to do so." Once I had her in the proper position I started to circle her, getting a good look at her naked body. I hadn't had a really good look at her in Sacramento, we had been in the dim sauna at first, and then she made such a dash for the cabana that I hardly saw anything at all. Seeing her now, in this submissive position, in four-inch heels, she looked better than I had first thought. She was very fit, but not too lean; her perky tits, thirty-four B's I suspected, sat not too high on her chest, in fact they sloped down a little and covered the top of her ribcage that was slightly exposed; we would have to do something about that as Mr Smith didn't like his women to look like starved racehorses. They were nicely formed, perfectly symmetrical with appropriately sized, quite pink nipples and areola. ."You will not speak unless spoken to. You will address the staff by their first names, but all Smithcorp residents and visitors will be addressed as madam," I said.

Her skin was golden with a hint of pink, very fresh, unblemished, and thank god, without tattoos or piercings. She had nice tan lines showing that she was the type to expose a lot of cleavage, but not much else; the white patch at her crotch was much smaller showing that she liked to show off her hips and butt. Her stomach was flat, but not muscled, her belly button neat, small and unmarked. Her ass was high and round and very tight, her legs also very good, perhaps a bit too strong, but all in all she was in wonderful shape for a woman of forty-three.

I trailed the crop down her narrow, lean back to the top of her deep butt crack, and then gave one of her cheeks a quick snap, "got it?"

"Yes madam," she replied. She had flinched and stepped forward at the blow, but quickly recovered and resumed the proper position.

"You must learn to take a blow without moving, Claire, especially a little love tap like that," I said.

"I…..ah….yes madam," she replied.

I brought the crop up between her legs and gave her pussy lips a little jolt, "no matter how unexpected," I added.

She had flinched, but not lost her footing; "yes madam," she replied.

"I shouldn't have to repeat that you _do_ owe us Claire, and from now on we own your body," I moved around in front of her, reached out and grabbed one of her small nipples and twisted it. Putting my face close to hers I snarled; "we _own_ you, you little cunt, got that?"

"Yes madam," she replied, biting down a little on her lower lip.

"Needless to say then, you will not mark, damage, blemish or alter any part of your body without permission."

"Yes madam."

I let my hand trail down through her unruly blonde bush, found her tickler and pinched it between my thumb and forefinger. She had been anticipating that, still she gasped a little, and went up on tip-toe, but kept her balance. "You will not play with yourself without permission, you will not have an orgasm without permission," I squeezed harder.

"Ahhhhhh, yes madam, she replied.

I let go and circled around behind her again, smiling at Kelly who was grinning, one hand on her own clit; Kelly loved her work, and was always fun to have around. And she looked fabulous as usual, quite dressy today in black fishnets under a short black skirt, and topless with just a very classy black and pastel mauve bra. The bra was custom made, as were all of her clothes to fit her awesome natural figure of thirty-four G-twenty-six-thirty four. This bra had marvellously long straps so that her huge tits had a long natural fall before being gathered up in its large, firm cups. She was a senior member of Smithcorp HQ staff and as such was very well paid and otherwise compensated; she was expected to have sex on demand with any manager, including Mr Smith, but she did not have an intimate relationship with him that the managers did.

"You will do _everything_ you are told _immediately_ , without question or complaint. Repeat that."

"I will do _everything_ I am told _immediately_ , without question or complaint," she said firmly as I moved back around in front of her.

"Good, get down on your knees, slut," I snapped.

She hesitated just an instant, from surprise, not resistance, I was sure; "Yes madam," she said and quickly dropped down on her knees before me.

I unzipped my knee length skirt, let it fall to the floor, and kicked it away revealing my naked bald pussy; I rarely wear panties, and white patterned stay-up stockings with broad tops. "Keep your hands behind your back," I said, "and now find my clit and give it a good lashing with that whore's tongue of yours."

####

Later I thought, well at least I didn't have to lick her shoes, but at that moment all I could think about was finding the bitch's clit and getting my tongue to work. It wasn't hard, even with my hands behind my back; all I had to do was stick the tip of my nose in between her naked pussy lips and run it up to the top were her clit perched, prominent and swollen. "At least she's having a good time," I thought, this sort of shit obviously gets her off. I had eaten pussy from this positon before, but never with my hands behind my back since I was never that kinky in college. It took some shifting around on my knees to get the right angle, and then I went to work, lapping and flicking, experimenting with my lips and tongue to see what she like.I had figured she wasn't the sensitive-clit kind, and I was right. I pressed in hard, wanting to make sure she knew how eager I was to please, and I was a bit afraid that I would knock her off balance, but she stood her ground very firmly and I soon noticed that Kelly was beside her, probably holding her up, and by the sound of it, kissing her at the same time.

Naturally, The Little Duchess had a sweet smelling, and tasting, pussy which she ground in to me, literally fucking my face; I felt a hand behind my head, a big hand, pushing me against her. "Come on, faster, you lazy slut, I'll have more effort out of you or I'll take the switch to you," Patricia said, but I could hear the giggle in her voice, accompanied by Kelly's deep, throaty chuckles.

I stepped up my game, just starting to really feel an ache in my poor tongue that was overcoming my many other mild complaints, from sore knees to riding crop welts. God, I had never in my life imagined I would have riding crop welts, but they who does, besides the brit upper class ofcourse. I was getting very hot, and not the good kind, I was flushed and sweaty, and also angry and ashamed. I didn't have to remind myself how badly I needed to accomplish this, but I was humiliated just the same, and with every lick and suck I cursed my little brats. I was also challenged, I hate to lose at anything, no matter what it is, so her taunting really got me going. If I could just use my hands, but that was out of the question. She had said to lick her clit, she hadn't specifically said I couldn't go after the rest of her pussy, so I tentatively started working her lips and just inside as well; she didn't stop me so I really went to town.

"Make me come, you little slut, come on, make me come!" she shouted and now had lifted her hips a little so that she was fucking my tongue and driving the bottom of her clit against my nose. It seemed to be working because I could feel her starting to tense, I even heard her moan."

"Come on, fuck you, come on, come on, I want to cream all over your smart ass, soccer mom, California girl face," she demanded.

I don't know how much more I could have taken, my neck and tongue and jaw were killing me, all my other pains forgotten, and I was getting tired, not to mention that I was almost suffocating, when she went into a kind of humping frenzy. "Yesssss, you little cunt, you little cunt, yesss, yesss, yess," she cried out in a most unladylike manner and I felt her tense and then felt her juices pour down on me. Fortunately Kelly let go of my head at that moment, or I would have been drowned.

After a moment she detached herself from me and left me there, sticky face lowered. I had a terrible urge to wipe off her cum, but I knew that would be very rude of me, so I just knelt there catching my breath and hoping she would let me get up off my aching knees.

"Stand up!" she commanded, "Look at me," she had the damned riding crop again and used to force my chin up. I could barely see her, both me eyes were half closed from a mixture of her love juices, mascara and sweat; I had to breathe though my mouth because my nose was all plugged up.

"Doesn't she look divine Kelly," she laughed; "what a wreck, what a slutty, shameless little whore, oh you have to get a picture of this. I suppose that was done, not that I could really hear or see what was going on, then a hot, damp washcloth was tossed into my face. "Clean yourself up, cunt licker," she said, and I wiped my face as quickly and thoroughly as I could before the cloth was snatched back from me by Kelly. I knew I must look awful, like some just gang banged bimbo at a frat house, but I stood there looking at the smirking little Brit with most of my eyesight repaired.

"Open your mouth," she said.

I opened my mouth.

"Wider slut!" she commanded and I stretched my mouth out as much as I could and immediately had it filled by the cum soaked wash cloth. Kelly didn't shove it in very far, and at least I could partially breathe through my nose.

"You have a long, long way to go Claire," she said "but its early days yet, so I shan't write you off just yet."

I kept looking at her, standing a bit unsteadily on those damned, foot crushing heels. She snapped my left nipple again, hard. "What do you say, you ungrateful dolt?"

"Tthhhhannnnwuyluumfltlsnm," I replied.

"Kelly will now take you down stairs to the spa where they will fix you up proper; mind everything she says."

"Yeathhhhhtmammmmm," I replied.

She shoved the riding crop between my slightly parted legs and then pulled it up to lodge between my surprised and bruised pussy cheeks. "Clench," she commanded, and I brought my thighs tightly together. "If you give her any sass, she will use this on you, just like I would. You will carry it with you between your legs, and if you drop it you'll get ten good ones."

She turned around and causally strode out of the room, not bothering to pick up her skirt or look back at all. I felt Kelly's warm breath on the back of my neck, "You did pretty good," she whispered, "now just go slow and squeeze and you will be alright. Once we get down to the spa you can look forward to a few hours of luxury and relaxation, follow me."

Then she started slowly for the door and I minced after her.


	6. Slackers

**CHAPTER FIVE**

 **SLACKERS**

"Okay, I'm humiliated, I have to do what you say, I'm your slave; I get it already!" I growled to myself.

I was completely naked except for diamond stud earrings and wickedly arched, six-inch black heels. I was standing at attention, perfectly still, like a piece of furniture, like a statue, staring through Rebecca's bedroom window, off to the distant point where the darkening sky met the sea. It was a beautiful view, but I wasn't really enjoying it. I couldn't relax for even a second because I had to keep that damned riding crop from falling from between my legs where it was jammed right up there between my pussy lips. I could understand the point of _**that**_ , okay so it was some kind of muscle development thing, but what the fuck was the point of making her keep a second crop clenched between her teeth? Come on!

I kept my thoughts off of my face, I was smart enough to keep my expression impassive even though I was turned away from the other two women in the room. "Okay, I get it, I'm you're plaything; so play with me! Slap me, pinch me, make me lick your pussy, hell shove a god dammed dildo up my ass, anything would be better than this, this… standing around shit. Whip me, beat me, call me dirty names, but don't bore me!" I was practically howling at them in my mind, and then laughing, ya laughing inside my skull. And it wasn't the good kind of laughing either, it was the hysterical kind.

"Calm down, calm down," I told myself, "breathe; you can do this. This will pass, nobody's been shoving anything up anyone's ass, at least not yet. These are basically decent, civilized people, and all of…. this is just a test, a hazing, like an initiation before they let me into their group. Sure it was. Right?"

"Don't think, don't think," I said, but that was the hardest part. I've had never been any good at any of that Zen shit, you know, going all spacy. My mind doesn't turn off, ever; even when I was running a marathon I never stop thinking. I don't know what the hell this "runner's high" is that people talk about. All I know is that as the race goes on I get impatient to get it over with because I can't stop thinking about all the shit I still have to do that day. "Well you have nothing to do now," I told myself, "just do what your told and don't think; don't think about your feet or your back or your sore pussy, or having to go pee…..damn! No, I don't, no I don't. I….. do…..not…..have…..to …..go…..pee." My legs began to tremble.

For a few hours earlier that day I had been treated almost like a queen down at the spa. There must have been at least five very talented women working on me, pampering me, all very respectful and polite. After that I had a small meal in my room, then I was stripped down, marched here, and now this…this… nothing. I don't know how long I stood there, being ignored by those two bitches while they played dress up, or whatever the fuck they were doing, but I was beginning to doubt that I could take it any longer, when I caught a break. With nightfall the sky was turning the window dark so that it became just like a mirror. I looked at my own reflection, and it was kinda unreal. I couldn't believe it was me, couldn't connect the image of that bondage slut in the window, with me, Claire Dunphy. Still, looking at her I thought, "She's hot, they won't be able to keep their hands off of her for much longer."

Better yet, now, I could now see what was going on in the room behind me, I didn't even have to move my head. Rebecca and the little duchess were amusing themselves by trying on dresses. At least that's what it looked like to me, or maybe they were getting ready to go out somewhere, I couldn't tell.

All made up, hair done perfect, they drank what smelled like Margarita's and modelled for each other, turning this way and that, executing pirouettes and burlesquing the moves of runway models, laughing all the time, having such great fun. It couldn't have been their intention, but they were giving me quite a show as well. Patricia was wearing a very daring little number that was light, airy, and wonderfully skimpy. Very thin straps over the shoulder, down the almost open sides and crisscrossing at her back gave her a wonderful look of vulnerability which suited her small frame, if not her character, perfectly. Its cream color nearly matched her flawless skin. They both agreed that it was darling and that the boss would love it.

Rebecca wasn't so happy with her outfit by Versace. The black, knee-length skirt was very high waisted, coming up just under her big boobs; the jacket was long sleeved and also black except for the front piece which was done over with an intricate black and white lace. It looked awkward, but it showed off an enormous amount of cleavage very effectively. There was no blouse or chemise at all, and she appeared to be naked under the jacket that was held shut with just a narrow cloth belt. She fretted with it, tugged at it, paced about. She walked over to me, took the crop from my mouth and smacked me across the ass with it once, twice. "Eyes front, slut," she growled.

"Yes ma'am," I replied. At last, some new pain to take my mind off of my aching feet and threatening bladder. I didn't let my relief show on my face, I kept my face stony, my eyes fixed on the horizon and my mouth open. Rebecca shoved the crop back in there and I clamped down on it. I wished she had used the one from between my legs.

"I think it's hideous," Rebecca declared turning back to Patricia.

"Oh, no not hideous, nothing could ever be hideous on you," Patricia replied and came up and put an arm around her. They stood casually like that for a moment, turned towards each other, foreheads touching.

"Good," I thought. "They're gonna start going at it any second, and I'll finally see some real action."

" _ **Slackers!"**_

The shout from the doorway was so loud and unexpected, so _**masculine**_ that I nearly jumped out of my skin. I toppled off of my heels, and had to snatch at the crop between my legs to keep it from falling to the floor as I quickly regained my position. Fortunately they weren't paying any attention to me at all, they were too busy keeping their own balance as they whirled about on their stilettos. They stumbled too, and had to grab each other for support.

"Tom, boss….I thought you were in Shanghai, I….wasn't expecting you!" Rebecca gasped.

"What the fuck?" I said to myself, my heart racing in my chest. Rebecca's voice had actually trembled, the uber-bitch sounded frightened. I was too nervous to really look the guy over; this must be Him; The Boss, The Mr Smith that they all talked about as if he were god. He was an older man, but very fit looking, maybe six feet tall, broad shouldered, and looked like his head was shaved. Holy shit! I expected some pudgy exec type, or some ass with salon hair; this guy looked more like a mob boss, you know, Irish mob. He was wearing a suit, shirt and tie, looking very serious and business like. He was such a presence, that I hardly even noticed Kelly standing behind him, naked – and believe me, that's a lot of naked.

"And I'm pleased to see you too Rebecca," he said dryly.

"I beg your pardon….sir…of course I'm over the moon to see you," she replied quickly, still off balance.

His voice was calm, but he was mad, that was clear by his stance, and his look that made me freeze and hope he wasn't looking at me. Rebecca and Patricia just stood there, like they were stunned. I had never seen them like that.

"I'm _**soooo**_ happy to see you sir, it's a wonderful surprise," Patricia said meekly. She seemed to have recovered more quickly than Rebecca, in fact she didn't sound really very surprised at all.

"Good, I've missed you too, my little British cunt," he replied. He sounded American, non-regional, maybe Californian. He ignored Rebecca and went right over to Patricia, grabbed her and crushed her against his chest. He pulled back her head, bent down to give her a fierce, rough kiss.

He pulled her head away, but kept one hand firmly grasping the back of her neck; she looked up at him with trembling lips. He fingered the neck of her dress then slid his free hand through the wide open side and grabbed her tit; "Nice dress," he said, "Vera?"

"Yes sir," she replied.

"My God, you are a naughty little slut, no bra." Then he _**ripped**_ the thin material, the Vera Wang, right down the side and reached for her crotch, and I heard her moan "Oh sir, Oh sir, please shove your fingers inside me, oh please finger bang me, sir." The little bitch.

"Oh, you like that, don't you, you little cunt, eh, eh," he growled.

I could _**hear**_ the sound of his fingers pounding her squishy cunt, and it made me instantly wet. I was standing about six feet away, but I might as well have been invisible. I was watching the show, and it was making me horny, so much so that I was worried that my pussy would get so loose I'd lose the riding crop. While he was doing this, Rebecca just stood there, like she was forgotten too.

"Oh yes sir, I do _**soooo**_ love it, don't stop, _**ahhhhhh**_ , harder sir _ **, harder!"**_ Patricia carried on; she had adjusted to the situation more quickly than the older woman, but then, she was actually getting attention, and no doubt she _**was**_ enjoying it.

"Prisoner!" he snapped, and I thought, "Is he talking to me?" but he wasn't. Rebecca snapped into the "prisoner" pose like they had shown me; hands locked behind her head with elbows extended as far as they would go on either side at eye level, legs shoulder length apart, head up, eyes straight ahead. It was a submissive pose, and I would have chuckled, except I was scared shitless. If he was this mad at them, how was he going to feel about me?

He just left her there, and he hauled Patricia over a little so that they were directly behind me, and I couldn't really see what was going on between them. I could see was Kelly standing casually, hip cocked, _**she**_ looked completely relaxed. I swear she actually gave me a little smile. That was reassuring, and I calmed down, a little, my heart rate started dropping off, although the excitement in my pussy was still at a dangerous level. Shit, this stuff was turning me on.

The little duchess seemed to have some control over the situation, her eager pleadings turned to muffled little moans, I could only image that Mr Smith had put _**something**_ in her mouth, his cock or his tongue maybe, although it could be fucking anything around here.

"Yes, I missed your tight, little ass as well," he growled.

Patricia gave a bit of a startled yelp followed by a breathless, "Oh thank you sir," and "it means so much to me to please you." What a little fucking brown nose.

"Must have been his tongue," I thought to myself because she wouldn't have taken his cock out of her mouth to speak without being told. At any rate, I didn't have to guess much longer because he ordered Kelly to come forward, and Patricia went over to her, back into my line of sight.

I almost dropped the riding crop out of my mouth as I watched her walk up to Kelly, who was standing with her hands on her hips, reach up and wrap her arms around her neck. She rested her head on Kelly's right shoulder, pressed her modest, perky boobs against Kelly's huge ones, walked her feet back a foot or so, and bent forward so that her back was at a forty-five degree angle, and her tight little ass stuck out towards me, and of course, Mr Smith. Now she was the one who was blind, I thought, now she'll have to guess what the hell's going on.

Mr Smith went over to Rebecca and looked her up and down. She stood as still as me, staring straight ahead while he towered over her. They were turned a bit sideways to me so I couldn't really see their faces.

"Versace?" he said.

"Yes sir," she replied.

"The guy's losing his touch."

I couldn't really tell, looking at her reflection in the window, but you know, I could feel her redden with embarrassment. She didn't reply, just stood there and took it. I felt a little smug, I hadn't liked the outfit either.

"Maybe without the skirt; lose it," he commanded, and she reached around to the zipper, which in this case was almost as high up as a bra strap, quickly unzipped, dropped, and then stepped out of the offending garment. She wore nude sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose with no panties which seemed to be the thing around here. "The jacket's not so bad," he said with a little shrug, very dismissive, and again I thought, "Holly shit, I thought Rebecca was his favorite."

The jacket split outwards just below the under-the-boobs belt, leaving her tummy exposed down to the low waist of my pantyhose. With her arms back behind her head the top also was very open, in fact just barely revealing her tight nipples.

"For what, three thousand dollars?" he asked.

"Five," she replied evenly.

"Uhmm," he said.

He moved around behind her and ran a hand over her big, but well defined butt cheeks and then down between her legs. He squeezed her and then gave me a very hard slap, which made me start a little. The slap was loud and Rebecca gasped, like she wasn't used to it – ha, take that, I thought.

"That's a very nice ass too," he said and gave it another whack.

"Ahhh, thank you sir," she replied.

He took the waistband of her pantyhose with one hand and yanked it about half way down her ass before reaching inside and stroking and squeezing her bare flesh. He pressed tightly up against her from behind, lifted her hair away from the right side of my neck, and gave the exposed flesh an intimate and familiar kiss. She made another little moan, and I thought, "Shit are they making up already?" His right hand went over her shoulder and across her chest, pushed aside the jacket from her breast so that he could squeeze and stroke her nipple. Again, she moaned, the big slut. "Hey, how about giving me a little of that," I wanted to shout. My nipples were hard as rock and dying to be pinched, or even better, sucked.

He moved a bit to the side so that he could get the same hand to travel down through her bush, and into her pussy. "Ya, some of that too," I almost said out loud.

"You're such a slut," he said in a low voice that I could barely here. And no shit, she had a fucking orgasm right there, moaning and shuddering for real. Her knees buckled a little, and he held her up with one arm around her waist and the other still deep in her cunt. All this time the little duchess stood bent over with her ass sticking out, holding on to Kelly, neither of them saying a word.

"Welcome home Daddy," I thought. "Jesus what kind of a nut house had I gotten myself into."

 **CHAPTER SIX**

 **ASS IN THE WIND**

Naturally, I can maintain any position, no matter how uncomfortable and humiliating, almost indefinitely, without a twitch or the slightest whimper, however, I was still grateful that Kelly provided such a sturdy and comfortable structure for me to lean on. She was soft, even plush you might say, and her boobs were so large that mine pretty much rested on top of hers as if they were on a shelf. She was actually holding me up and taking away much of the strain of my ass-in-the–wind position.

She also smelled nice, very much like fresh millinery, perhaps it was from all of the stiff, elaborate, and expensive lingerie that she normally wore. She was very steady on her heels which made it easier for me be the same on mine as my heart rate slowly diminished. I had anticipated this, and still his sudden arrival had startled me; Kelly's heart, which I could hear clearly with my head laid near her breastbone, was ticking over slow and steady. That's not to say she wasn't having a good time, or that she wasn't aroused by the sight of her bosses getting a good spanking; I knew this because of the distinct scent of her excited pussy mingled, quite noticeably, with her other perfumes. To me her snatch smelled like a mid-western wheat field in autumn, and since I had never been in a mid-western wheat field in autumn, this was pure fancy on my part.

These obscure thoughts had occupied my mind, no doubt as part of my instinctive efforts to calm my body and disassociate it from my present discomfort and awkwardness. It appeared as if Mr Smith was reacting the way I had expected, but one couldn't be sure. And in my current stance I couldn't see what he was doing to Rebecca.

I thought I heard whispering, which was a little disconcerting, and then the unmistakable sound of his zipper coming down and I surmised that Rebecca was now undressing him. A man's zipper, of course, makes a totally different sound from a woman's. This was good news because it meant that he was planning to use his cock; he was going to fuck me rather than beat me, and that was quite to my liking. Mr Smith has a very handsome, very large, cock which he wields with great skill, and I was now looking forward to receiving it, even if he were angry.

"Since wasting money is all that seems to get done around here these days, I guess we can get rid of this," he said, and I felt him gather the thin straps at the back of my dress and tear them to pieces with a single, masterful stroke. Yes, that made sense.

The flimsy garment parted easily and the tattered halves fell off the sides of my back prevented from falling to the floor by my arms. I made small, appropriately theatrical sounds as his big, hard hand begin to caress my bottom. It felt very good, naturally, but I recognized _**that**_ kind of caress, the sizing up, the toying, teasing fingers; it was not the handling that preceded the introduction of his cock, no, it was the sort of caress that comes before a blow. Realizing this I didn't tense up, rather, I willed my body to relax to more easily accept my chastisement. When the blow came however, I did make a totally unintentional squeak of surprise and a little twitch of my exposed hindquarters. Mr Smith almost always used his hand to deliver punishment, and what I had felt was certainly not his hand, but it was also not a cane or a switch or a paddle, crop, or any other implement my tight little bum has encountered in its long naughty career. It was a very precise sting, hitting a very small point on my naked flesh, and it came without a sound. The second sting came very quickly, and my reaction was about the same, but by the third blow I had calmed myself and responded properly, playfully. Five or six of these little bee stings bit my bum at different places before he stopped.

He seemed to have moved off, for I could faintly hear him speaking to Rebecca; closer to home I could actually feel, more than hear, Kelly's little chuckle. "It's the cloth belt from Miss Holliday's dress," she whispered without looking down. "He's snapping it like a towel."

Even though the next volley of five or six shots rained down on my bum without warning or comment, I was able to handle them with aplomb. Then I felt Mr Smith's warm breath on the back of my neck, hands once again on my bottom, caressing and squeezing hard; "I heard some strange things while I was in Shanghai," he growled into my ear. I was not surprised.

It is an art to know when to speak and when not to, and I knew that a quizzical "Sir?" was required here.

He was snugged up against me now, pushing my ass back in, flattening the length of my body up against Kelly, pinning me there, hand on my bum, the other on the back of my neck. "I heard that the Renewal Project is already a week behind schedule," he said.

That was true, the delay had been caused by my distraction with Claire, but it was hardly something for _**him**_ to worry about with all he had to direct, and besides it was very early days yet, and I was confident that I would be able to make up the time long before the deadline and ensure we suffered no penalties.

"That is correct, Sir," I replied, and then made a little moan as his hand slipped to the bottom of my butt cheek, down in between my legs, and slipped just a little way into my wet pussy. "I promise to make it up very quickly sir," I added.

"Ummmm," he said, and gave my bum a good smack with his hand; it appeared that the belt had been discarded. Then he snapped the last thin straps of my dress, reached around in front of me, pulled it away from my body and tossed it off to the side, a twenty thousand dollar rag. Now I was naked except for my heels, and quite eager to get fucked. He crushed my breasts with both his hands, and squeezed my nipples quite mercilessly.

"Oh Sir," I moaned, "please fuck me, I want your big hard cock up my bum."

Kelly chuckled quite openly, and Mr Smith gave me another hard swat; I had expected no less. Still, my insolence had not put him off, for now he drew my hips back a ways from Kelly's now somewhat slick body, and placed his rock hard cock straight up between my tight cheeks while he ran his hands over my back, hips and butt in a most appreciative manner. There was no question that he enjoyed the feel of my body, spare as it is compared to Rebecca's and some of the other women. I was quite confident that I had correctly sensed a growing shift in his preferences, away from plush and curvy to more slender models, like myself, and Claire. He spread my legs a bit further apart and returned to stroking my bottom and pussy in a manner that suggested he was finally going to fuck me.

Fuck me he did; the wide-bladed head of his very large, very hard, cock split my wet lips with ease and he thrust so hard that he drove me, moaning, back up against Kelly, lifting me up on my tip toes at the same time as his shaft sunk in as far as it would go. I was impaled, so large and hard was his cock that he could have turned around and walked about the room with me stuck on it like a monkey on a stick.

"Oh thank you sir!" I cried, "You are too good to your naughty little English cunt."

Kelly laughed out loud, and he began pounding me up against the solid sweaty wall of her flesh. She took her hands off her hips and grabbed mine while Mr Smith had a butt cheek in either hand and was using that for leverage as he hammered away. I was quite breathless for a while, mindless even, consumed by such gratifying fulfillment as to make me thank the Gods once again for crossing my fate with his. My repeated orgasms were certainly not fake, nor did I need to do anything to make them more theatrical than the convulsing, crying, howling, display that they honestly were.

He didn't stop for my orgasm, he just kept right on pumping his hard shaft into my tight, well lubricated tunnel, and I had to climb down from that ecstasy myself, at which point I discovered that my feet were back on the floor, my arms had come away from Kelly's neck, and were now grasping at her hips as I was bent to almost a ninety degree angle. He withdrew his long cock almost all the way out, and then gave my rump an encouraging slap which I knew meant that he wished me to do some work for a change, and now I stated to hump him, albeit backwards, thrusting my hips back and forth, steadied against Kelly, driving myself along his shaft.

"I heard even stranger news while I was in Shanghai," he said loudly enough to be heard above my pounding heart and incessant little obscene grunts that were coming out of me.

"I heard," he went on in a somewhat incredulous voice, "that you had committed _**two million**_ of my dollars for the right to audition a _**scrawny…**_ _**forty-one year old…**_ _**soccer mom!**_ " He punctuated his words with hard slaps to my bum.

He was playing with me. He knew that his statement was more than a little unfair. Certainly I was the one who took a fancy to Claire in the first place, and brought her to Rebecca, and I _**did**_ continue to promote her as a possibility even after she ran out on us in Sacramento, but the decision to help her out, was entirely Rebecca's. He knew very well that I didn't have the authority to make that kind of commitment, because he hadn't given it to me. Either he was testing me, or he was baiting Rebecca. I didn't object, or try to put any of the blame on her of course. He would have to tease it out – had Rebecca lost her judgement because she was infatuated with me, and would cavalierly waste the company's money to please me? Or had she seen the value in Claire herself?

The telling thing was that he was talking to me, and not to her. He slapped me much harder indicating his impatience so I ventured to respond; "Sir, the scrawny soccer mom has spit in her eye, she has a delightful mix of both desire and naivety. I feel that she has the edge that you so enjoy in a woman."

He pulled out of me, grabbed me by the shoulders, whipped me around and crushed me against his chest. "So you think she's a prize, an _**expensive**_ diamond in the rough?" he asked in a mocking tone.

"Oh yes Sir," I replied looking up into his wintery blue eyes, unable to properly compose myself and remove the longing from my face. I didn't want him to think me pleading my case, when in fact I was at the mercy of my unbridled love for him. Such difficulties come from mixing business with pleasure, which nonetheless lies at the very heart of how Mr Smith lives. The time had come for a changing of the guard; Rebecca, as much as I loved and respected her, really was past the time that she should have been kicked upstairs, put on the board, given a consultancy. It wasn't unprecedented, there was a whole generation of women that had come before her, and now were put out to pasture. Certainly she was very attractive for a woman of fifty-four, but none the less, well, fifty-four. Of course there were many women in cohorts ahead of me, forty and thirty year olds, with seniority, but I intended to vault over them. Surely that was Mr Smith's intention, why else would he have raised me up so fast?

I looked at her kneeling, head bowed, naked – not in a position of surrender, at least not to me. She was as much a victim of love as was I. Perhaps she was just now realizing the precariousness of her situation, perhaps not; no one ever really sees it coming. I did love her, and I would see that she was well taken care of, after all, she had been the mentor of my mind since I was eight years old, and of my body since I was eighteen. I had wanted it to be much sooner, but Mr Smith has very strict rules about that sort of thing, and as always, he knew best.

Of course it wouldn't be today, or even this month, but the succession must happen soon, and I wanted the boss to know I was ready, to know I could be ruthless if needs be. And that I was preparing, soon I would be needing my own loyalists, my own creatures, new blood….like Claire.


End file.
